Baby Grand
by GuiltyPleasuresAndDeadlySins
Summary: Face is bored, and when he walks into Kensington palace to find a woman playing the piano, he gets a little more than he bargains for - and she gets a reason to chase her dreams. Brief Face/OFC


_A/N: I don't know where this came from, but it was bugging at me. Yes, the A-Team is in England, because I've never been to America so I don't know whether the situation I wanted to arise would there._

**_Summary:_** _Face is bored, and when he walks into Kensington palace to find a woman playing the piano, he gets a little more than he bargains for - and she gets a reason to chase her dreams. Brief Face/OFC_

_****__Warnings:__ Mildly AU, brief talk of nakedness/sex, some swearing, and a little bit of fluff - and no, Face is not settling down._

___**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Irina and her piano.

* * *

_

Face was bored. And he meant _really_ bored. Their last job had them stuck in England for a few more days seeing as it was the middle of the holiday season, and every flight to America was fully-booked until Tuesday. _Tuesday_! For crying out loud! That was five days away. So Face had been left at a loose end, with a mad pilot, an easily irritated mechanic, and a boss who was going stir-crazy at the delay for company. It didn't help that both BA and Hannibal were blaming Face for the delay – he was good, but he couldn't make seats appear on aeroplanes, and his other contacts had come up blank - for a boat, or a plane they could fly themselves.

So, it had come to this. Face had decided to do something cultural, and had found himself in Kensington Palace – Hannibal was going to kill him, he hadn't actually _told_ anyone he was going out. He'd left a note, sure, but hadn't known where he was going at the time. The mansion was pretty much empty which surprised him, with only a couple of security guards around, and he could hear a piano – My Heart Asks Pleasure First/The Promise by Michael Nyman if Face wasn't much mistaken. He followed the sound and walked into a large hall to see a slim red-head sat at the piano her fingers flowing over the keys. There was something about the way she played that reminded Face of himself in a fight – all instinct, completely thoughtless. Her eyes were closed and her body moved with the passionate music.

The woman reached the end of the piece and move seamlessly into Ludovico Einaudi's La Onde. Face found himself entranced by the woman's playing – he wondered briefly if she was professionally trained, and then another thought presented itself. How in hell's name was she getting away with playing the piano? The few time's he'd been in stately homes like this, touching the piano was strictly forbidden. She came to the end of La Onde and launched into another piece, this time a pop song, Billy Joel, Piano Man. She finished the intro, and her voice echoed through the hall, taking up the words. Face noticed immediately that she had a good voice. She went the whole way through Piano Man before she started on another song – Phantom of the Opera, her voice echoing through the room again. This time Face couldn't resist, moving to stand next to the pianist, and taking up the Phantom's lines as she noticed him. She inclined her head and kept playing.

And so they stayed, the woman playing, sometimes singing, sometimes Face was singing, sometimes both were singing, sometimes neither. After about half an hour the woman finally stopped, closing the piano over, her fingers brushing the wood reverently.

"You're very good," Face told her.

"It's easy to sound good when you've got such a good instrument," the woman returned gesturing at the piano.

"How'd you get to play it anyway?"

The woman laughed. "Befriended the security guard and begged."

"You must be good."

The woman shrugged and continued to walk towards the exit.

"Oh come on, show me how you managed it!"

With another laugh, the red-head turned to face him. Then her face went innocent, her teeth biting at her lip and her deep blue eyes taking an uncertain look. "I know this isn't normal, but could I maybe…nah, no point in asking, sorry to bother you."

Despite being a conman, Face found himself reacting to the look of defeat in her eyes. "C'mon, what d'you want?"

"What're the chances of me getting a name out of you?"

"Templeton Peck. Damnit! You're good! Going to return the favour?"

"Irina Descartes."

They shook hands as they exited the palace. Irina stretched.

"Haven't had a grand piano to play in a while…"

"You usually play an upright?"

"Not much room for a grand in my apartment."

Face nodded but didn't reply as they reached the car-park and Face suddenly remembered that he'd actually braved public transport to get out here.

"Can I give you a lift somewhere Mister Peck?"

"Only if you call me 'Face' Miss Descartes."

"Then call me Rini."

"Rini?"

"My baby brother couldn't pronounce Irina when we were younger. So I became Rini. Face?"

"Long story."

"I see. How about coffee and that story?"

Face stared at her – normally he was the one doing the seducing, but if he'd read Irina Descartes right, she was intent on seducing him. He thought about it – his _team_ didn't actually know the story about how he'd first got the nickname. Sure they knew _why_ he'd got it, they just didn't know _how_ he'd got it.

"Sure," he agreed. "I'd like that."

* * *

Which was how he found himself here, in a small coffee-shop, with Rini laughing at the story of how he got his name. (There'd been a priest involved, a soccer ball, a broken window, and a rather irate shop owner, and Face had put on a 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' face, looked up at the shop-keeper with teary eyes and done the little-kid equivalent of swearing blind that it had been a complete accident, the other kids had been impressed and nicknamed him, while the priest watched on in fond exasperation).

"You miss him," Rini offered gently, her hand resting on his.

"Ah…" Face really wasn't used to someone who could do that. "How'd you know?"

"The way you talk about him, the look in your eyes. He's gone isn't he?"

"Yeah. I was in Mexico when it happened… Should've been with him."

"You couldn't have been. You had other things on your mind."

"That's true enough. You know what happened the last time I saw him?"

"Tell me."

"Y'see, they wouldn't let anyone in, unless they were from his parish, or his priest…"

"You didn't!" Rini exclaimed eyes wide, lips curved in a delighted smile, clearly seeing _exactly_ where this was going.

"I may have made use of a clerical collar."

"That's a classic!"

Rini went as if to go get refills.

"How about we leave this joint for a while?" Face suggested.

"Well," Rini smirked at him, her eyes darkening with promises. "There's only one question left."

"And what's that?"

"Your place or mine?"

* * *

They ended up in Rini's apartment. It was spacious and open-plan, a converted loft. An upright sat against one wall, and Face could tell that there was no room in here for a full grand – but perhaps a baby grand? He said as much and Rini laughed.

"I can't actually afford a new piano," she explained, her fingers playing with the buttons on Face's shirt. "It's all I can do to keep this apartment. And I'm working three jobs. Just my luck that I've actually got a day off. Now, Mister Peck, I believe you had less honourable intentions than making comments about the fact that I could fit a baby grand in here…" She trailed off, her fingers leaving the buttons of his shirt, to slip down the v-neck of her jumper to rest on the swell of her breast.

Then she turned and with a smouldering look over her shoulder, darted into what was obviously her bedroom. Face took another look around the lounge/kitchen room before following after her.

* * *

Afterwards, the two of them lay in the bed, Rini smoking, Face watching her, brushing her hair out of her face, and occasionally trailing kisses down her face and neck. She snuggled into his side, she fit there, like so many women before her. Face didn't feel the pressure to run – he had a feeling that this was as much a release for her as it was for him, as much just one more night of passion, no strings, no nothing.

"So what do you do?" Face asked curiously.

"Let's see," Irina mused. "Piano tech, barista, and lounge musician."

"And that doesn't pay the bills?"

"Oh it pays the bills, it just doesn't always pay _everything_."

"What did you want to do with your life?"

"Concert pianist, I'm good enough, but I can't afford to take the time to do it. Not since life went to hell. Inheritance taxes are a bitch, my brother's in a rehab centre and that costs a _hell_ of a lot, especially seeing as the dumb son of a bitch can't keep off the drugs once out."

Face watched her, and then raised an eyebrow at the fag in her hands.

"I only smoke after sex," she stated bluntly, her voice cool, almost detached. Face ran his fingers down her throat and across her shoulders, loving the way she arched into his touch.

"It's a bad habit," he told her mock-sternly. Her elegant, pianist's fingers played over his abs, drawing a slight shudder from him.

Rini blew out smoke, before reaching over to stub her fag out in the ash-tray that sat beside the bed. "And I can be a very bad girl."

The throaty, seductive tone didn't surprise him, and he stared into blue eyes as she lay there, on her side, one hand exploring his chest, the other propping her head up from the pillow. And Face smiled. No strings, just wild abandon. He could live with that. He leant in, and her lips parted expectantly, just as their lips met again, Face's phone chose to go off.

"You should get that," Rini told him, breath whispering across his lips.

"Ignore it," he responded. Pushing her onto her back, he took his own advice. The phone stopped ringing. Rini relaxed into him. Five minutes later, the phone went off again.

"You should get that."

This time, Face listened, reaching down and extracting his phone from his jacket pocket, flipping it open. "Yeah?"

"_Where the hell are you?"_ Hannibal's voice demanded. _"Never mind. Get back here now!"_

Face sighed as Hannibal didn't give him a chance to respond, just hung up the phone.

"Boss?" Rini asked, her fingers running over Face's now tense shoulders.

"Yeah, I got to go," he bent down and pressed a kiss to her lips, before slipping out of the bed and starting to dress.

"Take a shower," Rini suggested. "You'll feel better when you face your boss."

Face nodded and hurried to do so. Five minutes later, he was in the lounge room, Rini wrapped in a dressing gown, stupid penguin slippers on her feet, showing him to the door. As he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her again, he felt her press something into his pocket.

"I know you probably won't," she murmured against his lips. "But give me a call sometime. We can hook up again. Was nice meeting you Face."

"And you Rini," Face admitted quietly, before leaving.

* * *

Face stared out of the window of the plane. He knew he was never going to see Rini again, and for some reason he regretted that. She hadn't been asking for commitment – he knew that much – just the occasional hook up, and sex. That was all. But he'd enjoyed the time he'd spent with her – her conversation was as good as her body. He pulled out his palm-pilot and made a quick note in it to see about sorting something out.

* * *

It had been three weeks since Rini had hooked up with the stranger from Kensington Palace, and while she wasn't surprised, she was a little sad he hadn't called her. She'd had fun – and not just of the adult kind – she had real, honest fun, something she didn't get very often. Three jobs did not a fun life make. She sighed again as she sat at her piano, her fingers picking out mournful tunes.

The buzzer on the door went. She got up to answer it.

"_Yeah, I'm lookin' for Miss Rini Descartes? Got a delivery for yah," _the man on the other end told her.

"Come right up," Rini replied, pressing the door release. She set about making herself a cup of coffee – noting absently that she needed to find time to go shopping – before opening the door to the delivery man.

"I got two things for yah," he stated. "First's this, and the second comes when you give us the word."

Rini took the envelope curiously, not recognizing the hand-writing. Flipping it over, she chuckled, confused, when she noticed the wax seal – a masquerade mask with a stylised 'F' behind it. She slipped a knife under the seal and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

_I'm sorry Rini. You're right, I probably won't call – and it's not that I wouldn't mind hooking up again. I got other things on my mind – like the CIA and the MPs on my tail. I know you don't understand, and I hope you never have to, but in the meantime, use this damn piano and go and find your dream Miss Irina Descartes – we both know you can get yourself up there._

_Face_

She looked over at the delivery man. "It's a baby grand isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am," he nodded.

"Bring it right up."

* * *

Half an hour later, Rini had tipped the delivery men generously, and was busy re-tuning the piano. It was a gorgeous piano, and Rini was wondering just how Face had managed it. The piano was clearly expensive, and Face, while in an elegant suit, obviously didn't have _that _much money.

It took her half an hour to have the piano back to rights, and then she let her fingers flow over the keys, a smile tugging at her lips. It had a beautiful sound as well. She smiled gently to herself. Perhaps it was time to go for her dream – let her brother sort out his own messes for once, time to live her own life. She smirked, her fingers flowing through My Life easily, her voice taking the tune. She nodded to herself as her fingers came to a brief stop.

She was going to aim for her dreams – and she wasn't intending to miss.

* * *

_Ever since this gig began  
My baby grand's  
Been good to me_

_Baby Grand – Billy Joel_

* * *

_A/N: I've got a friend who actually does befriend the security guards in stately homes so she can play the pianos. All the songs mentioned are belonged by their respective composers. And I think there was something else I was going to say... Meh, please review. :-D_


End file.
